


Kids Will Be Skeletons

by Ember2123



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Mickey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 13:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember2123/pseuds/Ember2123
Summary: Mandy watched with gross fascination as her brother whittled himself down to bone. Why had he stopped eating? He could deny it all he wanted to, but Mandy saw him. He stopped eating the breakfast she made, only drinking cups of bitter black coffee. He never used to take it black. She watched as alcohol hit him faster and harder then it ever had before. But why? He had Ian now- freely. He should be happier, getting better, not worse.





	Kids Will Be Skeletons

Mandy watched with gross fascination as her brother whittled himself down to bone. Why had he stopped eating? He could deny it all he wanted to, but Mandy saw him. He stopped eating the breakfast she made, only drinking cups of bitter black coffee. He never used to take it black. She watched as alcohol hit him faster and harder then it ever had before. But why? He had Ian now- freely. He should be happier, getting better, not worse. 

She imagined that Mickey could hear him everywhere now. Terry's sickening voice calling him a fag, a queer. They shouldn't, but the words must hurt worse than broken bone. Terry was in jail, Ian in his bed, yet Mickey was still punishing himself. 

"Hey assholes, I made sandwiches!" Mandy shouted in the direction of her brother's room. Ian had stayed over that night and she could hear them fooling around not too long ago. It made her feel better that they had spent the morning sleeping in together. As she flipped the grilled cheese's off the pan and onto plates, she watched as Mickey's door opened and both boys wandered out. Mickey was still wiping sleep out of his eyes when he sat down. 

"Thanks Mandy" Ian said gratefully as he took his seat at the table. Mickey made a small noise of agreement, but he didn't look too happy to be staring down at the toasted bread and melted cheese. She joined them and they began to eat, listening to Ian retell the story of how he deserted the Army. Mandy watched as her brother pulled apart his food. He took all of two bites, but by the time Ian and herself had finished, his had been destroyed beyond recognition. She saw a worried look cross Ian's face as Mickey gathered all their plates and threw them into the sink. The boys went back to Mickey's room to get changed after lunch. Mickey stripped his shirt off and Ian walked over and placed his hands over his waist. 

"You're beautiful baby" Ian purred into his ear and began kissing his neck. Under his hands, Ian could feel the sharpness of Mickey's hips. His boyfriend stiffened nervously, like he suddenly wasn't comfortable with the familiar feeling of Ian's roaming hands. He heard Mickey take a sharp breath and pull himself away. "What's wrong?" 

Mickey quickly shrugged a shirt on and pulled his last cigarette from his pack. "Nothin," He responded, pulling Ian in for a kiss. "We got places to be." He grabbed his lighter from his bedside table and it clicked to life. Ian bit his lip but said nothing.   
...  
Mickey started losing muscle. Ian could tell because he hasn't been working out as much as he normally does. He can see the bones of his rib cage in fleeting glances, but he studies the deep hallows of his cheeks. When Ian woke that morning, Mickey was snuggled into his chest. He was breathing steadily against him, and Ian felt himself frown. Only now did Mickey ever seem so calm. It didn't feel fair. He kissed him on the forehead and started to go through his morning exercises. It had become commonplace even after he deserted. Mickey started to wake up as Ian went to take a shower. 

When Ian returned, a towel slung across his waist, he saw Mickey holding onto the door frame where Ian had been doing pull ups before. He struggled through a couple before dropping himself to the floor with a soft, "Fuck". Ian grimaced but walked into the room like he hadn't seen. Mickey's eyes were red and puffy but he still smiled at him. Who knew which ones were real anymore. 

Ian continued to see signs in every action Mickey took. They had started fucking in the dark and Mickey always wore a shirt- no matter how hard Ian tried to strip it off. He never ate unless Ian gave it to him. A command hidden in an offer that Mickey seemed to see through every time. He was sleeping longer than usual and his stomach cramped at every forced meal. The mirror always had a towel thrown over it when Mickey showered. There were signs everywhere, but signs of what? That Mickey was starving himself. Why? 

Working at the club, Ian had to exercise excessively to fit into that tiny gold thong every night. Is that why Mickey did it? To stay in shape. Ian worried that it was more than that, much more than he could fix.

He tried starting conversations with Mickey before, but he never got anywhere. Mickey always brushed him off, told him he was fine. But he wasn't fine- he was pale and tired and shaking. His hair was frail and it fell out in clumps when Ian pulled on it. He was sick, he looked sick. He was thin like a rail and it scared the shit out of Ian. All he seemed to want these days were cigarettes and coffee. He used to taste sweet when they kissed. Now his lips are bitter. 

Mickey was sitting on the porch, nursing the crumbling embers of his cigarette. Ian sat beside him, feeling the breeze cut through his short cropped hair. He watched as Mickey lit another with the burning end of his last. He flicked the dead cigarette into a pile of others. Mandy had made breakfast again and the smell of eggs permeated the house. Ian could tell that it made him sick, that's why he had been hiding out on the porch, chain smoking for hours. 

"You've been out here for quite a while. Whatcha thinkin about?" Ian asked. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but there was too much of it. Too much anxiety about the man he loved. 

"Nothing, I just needed some air." Mickey responded easily as he took another puff. Ian saw Mickey shake as a cold wind blew past, it was a brisk February morning after all. Ian put a hand on his arm and felt the chill past his thin long sleeve. 

"Mick..." Ian grimaced. "You're freezing."  
"I'm fine," he responded harshly as he shook the hand off his shoulder. Ian's brow furrowed and Mickey let out a loud breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." He hung his head and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Are you okay?" Ian prodded and Mickey turned to look at him.  
"Of course I am." He said tiredly, weariness present in the sloping syllables of his words.   
"And you'd tell me if you weren't?" Mickey paused at that.  
"Yeah Ian, I'd tell you."  
"Don't lie to me." Ian said dejectedly, looking down at his feet. "I know that something is wrong, and I know you don't want to talk about it but," He took a deep breath and found his boyfriend's eyes. "I just want to help you." 

There was a long moment of silence before Mickey settled on, "It's stupid."  
"Mickey- You've lost a lot of weight. Whatever it is, it's not stupid." Mickey nodded and took another drag.  
"It's uhh- It's my Dad." Mickey said, looking out into the street, avoiding Ian's eyes. "He's in prison, but ah- you never know for how long." He finished nervously as he swiped at his nose and stubbed his smoke out. Ian rested against him and was relieved when Mickey leaned into his touch. 

"You're scared that he's going to get out and come looking for us?"  
"Aren't you?" Mickey bit back. "I know that I haven't talked about him a lot, but he's dangerous. He won't stop until one or both of us are dead, and I won't let him hurt you. Not again."

"Hey, I can protect myself. I've worked so hard to get this with you and I'm not letting it go." Ian said, putting a possessive hand on Mickey's leg. "Anything else bothering you?"

"Nah- It's just Terry's shit. I mean- I always knew how he felt about me being gay, but he would have killed me that night at the bar. If you hadn't stepped in, pulled him off, he wouldn't have stopped. He would have killed me over it, his own son." Mickey felt tears climbing behind his eye lids and he angrily rubbed them away. 

"Come here baby," Ian soothed, taking Mickey's face between his palms and kissing him slowly. "Terry's an asshole, and I'm never letting him hurt you again. But we gotta talk about this- yeah? You haven't been eating, and you keep losing weight, and I'm really fucking worried about you." Ian said and Mickey nodded. He pulled the shorter man into his chest and held him as Mickey's arms gripped tightly around his waist. He was shaking and Ian could feel tears soaking the back of his shirt. 

It had been weeks since their last conversation about the elephant in the room. Ian had hoped that something would change since Mickey opened up about his father, but he kept refusing meals. His shirts hung further from his thin frame and their sex seemed forced and passionless. It's like Mickey didn't want him anymore. The pain of rejection burned deeply in Ian's heart. What would he do without him?

Mickey's blue eyes were bloodshot, the bags under them heavy and bruised. He looked tired and when Ian could get close enough, he felt the bone under his paper thin skin. 

It was late and the moon was shining through the bathroom window. It highlighted the shattered mirror, projecting the cracks on Mickey's face as he brushed his teeth. Ian was sitting quietly on their bed, contemplating what he could possibly say to his distraught boyfriend. Mickey joined him a couple moments later, wearing thick sweatpants and a sweatshirt. They used to sleep naked, even in the winter, using only each other and the blankets to keep warm. They had lost that too. 

"I'm really proud that you told me about your father, but it doesn't explain everything." Ian said, his eyes pleading to Mickey's.  
"What are you talking about?" He responded, his tone defensive.  
"You're never around, and when you are- you're closed off. Isolated. I mean, we haven't really had sex in weeks either."

"Is that a problem?"  
"No- it's just. When you look at me, it's like you don't even love me anymore." Ian finished, his tone dropping along with his eyes that fell to stare at his pale legs instead of Mickey's cold expression.   
"Ian, I'm sorry. I thought that this would be easier."  
"What do you mean?"

"I don't deserve you." Mickey responded and Ian looked up at him confused. "I mean, it's like you said. I haven't been around, I've been distracted."  
"But why? What's wrong Mickey?" Ian asked and then continued, "Is this about the eating thing?"

Mickey scoffed, "the eating _thing _."__  
"Sorry, I didn't mean-"  
"No, it's uh, fine." He responded heavily. "I don't really know what it is."  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"No."  
"You're different now, Mickey. You used to love me- used to trust me."  
"I do love you."  
"Then let me help. Tell me what's going on. Why wouldn't you deserve me?" Mickey sighed loudly and rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. Then he moved his hands so his palms were cupping Ian's cheeks. 

___"You're beautiful Ian." Mickey said, kissing him quickly on the lips._  
Ian scrunched his face in irritation. "Don't do that-"  
"I'm trying to explain." Mickey said dropping his hands. His eyes looked glassy and turned pink with emotion. "You're beautiful. You could be with anyone you wanted to."  
"I want you Mickey." Ian pushed and Mickey sighed. 

__"You shouldn't. I pushed you away for so long, I acted like you didn't matter to me. I hid you but you stayed with me and I don't know why. What am I doing for you? You can't even say that you're here for my body, because I don't have that either. You're gonna leave me one day and I can't-" Mickey's anger faded into fear and sadness and he tried to push himself away when Ian came close._ _

__"Look at me sweetheart," Ian's hand guided his face so he could gaze into Mickey's cold blue eyes. "I love you because you are kind, and generous, and so passionate. You're right, you did push me away in the beginning- but with your father and all that shit you grew up with- I've long since forgiven you for that. You are so good, and so beautiful, and that's why I'm still here. How could you think any differently?" Ian pushed closer so they were touching, the warmth spreading to every part of Mickey's cold body. Ian rubbed circles into Mickey's back as he sobbed into his shoulder.  
"I- I don't," he cried. "I don't know what's happening."_ _

__"Okay, it's okay." Ian said as he let his body curl deeper into the hug. He wasn't sure what came next, or what they going to do. So he settled on the silence and the warmth between them and hoped that the morning would be different. Mickey began to calm down after a few minutes, his sobs turning into the occasional hiccup and his tears drying to salty stains on his cheeks. "Go to sleep baby. We'll figure everything out in the morning." Mickey nodded as they both settled under the blankets._ _

___"I love you."  
"I love you too." It didn't have feel like enough, those four words. It didn't convey the extent of the emotion that he felt for his partner. It only scratched the surface.  
They both fell asleep that night with their heads swarming. Mickey dreamed of what would happen now that Ian knew his fears. He imagined Ian finally realizing what Mickey had always known- and he could almost hear the sound of the door slamming shut as he left him. He woke up every couple of hours, the panic in his chest settling heavy on his lungs. _

__Ian woke up alone that morning, Mickey's side of the bed still warm but empty. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and enjoyed the peaceful silence of the early hours. He had time to decide what he wanted to say to Mickey, to tell him what he really needed to hear. The smell of brewing coffee pulled him from his thoughts. He got out of bed and shrugged on a shirt before heading towards the kitchen._ _

__He expected the coffee pot to be full, the stove empty, with Mickey drinking his cup alone at the table. The scene was a little different this time. The coffee was still pouring languidly into the pot, the 'drip drop' pattern acting as a metronome as Mickey flipped pancakes. Ian felt a smile spread across his face as he said, "Good morning." He approached Mickey, who had his back turned to him, and dropped a kiss on his shoulder._ _

__"Morning Firecrotch" he laughed back and turned his head for a real kiss. There was a small stack of blueberry pancakes on the counter. He slipped the last one from the pan to the plate. The coffee machine sputtered as the stream of hot water stopped and the pot was full. Mickey turned the stove off and moved the hot pan to the unused burner._ _

__He retrieved two mugs from the cabinet, and poured coffee into both. Ian grabbed the milk and mixed some into his cup. He was surprised when Mickey reached for it next, there hands touching the carton where the condensation rolled down their fingertips.  
"Thanks," Mickey said in response to Ian's questioning eyes. Mickey took a long pull from his coffee, and grabbed the pancake dish to move to the table. "Mandy!" He called towards her room, "Breakfast!" _ _

___Ian grabbed plates and utensils for them all as Mandy poked her head from her door._  
"You made breakfast?" She asked in disbelief.  
"Fuck you is what I made." Ian let out a small laugh as he pulled a pancake into his plate and doused it in syrup.   
"Blueberry pancakes, Mandy. And they look good!" 

__Mandy skeptically walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She grabbed a pancake and took a tentative bite. "Oh, these are pretty good. Thanks bro." Mickey smiled and took another sip from his cup. He was standing awkwardly at the counter, watching with carefully hidden panic behind his tense jaw. Ian could tell that the coffee was burning his tongue, but Mickey had no response to the feeling. After a couple seconds of internal debate, he sat down at the table._ _

__He stabbed his fork into the pancakes and dragged it towards his plate. He cut it into tiny pieces and placed a bite into his mouth. Mandy looked at Ian with tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face. Ian knew that his own expression reflected the same sentiment. Ian started to talk about work so Mandy turned her eyes away from burning holes into Mickey. By the time Ian and Mandy had finished their food, Mickey had eaten his own pancake too. It wasn't much, but it was progress._ _

__Mickey's problems were by no means over. One breakfast didn't erase the memories of his father or the feelings that he wasn't enough- but it was a start. It meant that Mickey recognized that there was a problem and there was hope that he could fix it. He wanted to, or at least knew, that he need to change. In the swirling indecision and concern in his mind, Ian smiled and knew that things could get better._ _


End file.
